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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29444457">to my dearest.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/princevector/pseuds/highlanders'>highlanders (princevector)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Giving, Love Letters, M/M, My Azem goes by Nemesis, My Wol goes by Aryah, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Valentine's Day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:54:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29444457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/princevector/pseuds/highlanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nemesis really enjoys writing letters, especially if it means getting to tease his beloved. Emet-Selch says otherwise.</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>One-shots for Emetwol Valentione's week!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Azem/Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s), Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. love letter.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>To My Dearest Emet-Selch,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I have some delightful news for you! Recently on my travels, I have discovered mortals celebrate a tradition known as Valentione's. It is a disgustingly sweet little holiday where mortals exchange certain gifts to their loved ones! From my observations, chocolates and flowers are commonly gifted. Does this interest you? Does it make your stomach churn with disgust? Or your heart flutter with delight?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>… Just kidding. I know exactly how you’d react. You’d huff and mumble a string of nonsense under your breath, but you’d accept any gift I give you. That’s part of your charm, I suppose. Mayhaps it is your only charm. Take that as a compliment, and part of my love for you. My gifts will be laced with all the love in the world—no chocolate and no flowers could satisfy those expectations. My love far exceeds any materialist gifts. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Perhaps there’s another way I can express my affections. Whenever I return from my travels, I can feel your eyes wander up and down my body. Words aren’t necessary—I know what you want—and I’m more than happy to oblige those desires. On one condition, my love. This time, I will be in charge. No protests, or I’ll have to think up a suitable punishment for my fiancé. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>…. Just kidding. I will be home soon, my love. Your patience, as always, is greatly appreciated. Even if I test your limits. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yours Truly,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Nemesis ♡</em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. teasing.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aryah doesn't like distractions. Emet-Selch is one hell of a distraction.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Do note that Nemesis is the name of my Azem, while Aryah is the name of his "reincarnated" self. Aryah was essentially a vessel, and after certain events, they eventually Rejoined, though still going by Aryah.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘The Warrior of Darkness is quite taken with </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>history,’ Emet-Selch muses, eyes glancing over the Miqo’te’s subtle quirks. From the twitching ears to the swishing tail, it was not hard to judge the excitement emanating from Aryah.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My my hero, you’re quite easy to read, Much like a book I’d enjoy perusing in my pastime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aryah doesn’t bat an eye at Emet-Selch’s witty remark. Instead, he continues to find himself rather preoccupied with exploring the ancient murals painted amongst the cave’s walls. All of it was so fascinating, yet he could not help but question the occasional pangs that ran through his veins—as if taunting his very soul. Aryah chooses to ignore any distractions, continuing to immerse himself in the newfound historical discoveries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is, until </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>decides to become a distraction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quite the cold shoulder you’re giving me. I know the beloved hero is the quiet type, but to be so outright cruel is rather disappointing—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With as much speed as a racing Chocobo, Aryah reaches out to grab Emet-Sech’s collar, but is quickly restrained by the Ascian’s gloved hand. Snarling in response, Aryah’s heterochromic eyes glare daggers upwards, canines just barely showing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did not ask for your commentary, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ascian,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His tone drips with venom, and by sheer force does he manage to slip out of Emet-Selch’s grip. “Besides, don’t you know staring at others is rather rude? No—of course </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>wouldn’t.” And faster than a whip does Aryah turn his attention back towards the murals. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, for just a fleeting moment, Emet-Selch can see the sadness in Aryah’s eyes.</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘A hero is never quite good at lying, now are they?’</span>
  </em>
  <span> He muses, all while choosing to ignore the slight flutter in his soul. Rather, it’s passed off as intense curiosity, as if he’s trying to solve the mystery that is the Warrior of Darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet, despite how hard he tried, Aryah could still feel the warmth creep upon his cheeks. Silently, he uttered a thousand curses in the back of his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I hate that foul man. So. Much.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>… At least, I think I do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Aryah remembers their time together—back before the Final Days. As Nemesis’ words rang through the back of his mind, he remembers the final dance between them. The song that played was somber, emotional, and one that could force tears rolling down his cheeks. As if he’s reliving that moment, Aryah finds himself alone, choking back sobs as the tears rain freely down his scratched cheeks. The final fight with Hades is over, and the events that unfolded bear a heavy burden on his shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he can do is scream and cry out Hades’ name over and over again. As Aryah undergoes his own Rejoining with Nemesis, there comes a final realization. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Your beloved is gone……</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But someday, we will once again dance under the stars together.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. of flowers and dates.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>their final dance was amongst a field of red spider lilies. </p>
<p>as all things should be.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Red spider lilies…’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a small patch growing near his Shirogane residence. Upon first glance, Aryah thinks little of the beautiful flowers gently dancing in the breeze. Or rather, he chooses </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to think about the memories associated with such flowers. As a knowledgeable botanist, Aryah is well-versed in floriography. Perhaps this is one of those rare occurrences where having such peculiar knowledge is a bad trait. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was quite fond of those flowers, you know.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aryah closes his eyes, inhaling sharply at those unspoken words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Upon that battlefield and in your final dance together…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...He offered you a hand covered in Lycoris radiata….</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough.” He retorts sharply and to absolutely nobody in the vicinity. Of course nobody can hear his anguish; this was his own burden, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>… Call it one last date, perhaps?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“Enough!” </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And with that, Aryah’s world falls silent. As all things should be. Yet, he doesn’t deny the voice’s judgment. Why wouldn’t he? After all, that voice belongs to a part of him. And just like that, Aryah continues on his walk, quietly forcing back any tears that nearly escaped his shaken frame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Red spider lilies…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...Their last date was a dance amongst a field of red spider lilies. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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